Opening Scene
It’s spring break at Shinomura Academy. Rumors spread quick about odd growths twisting out from the abandoned tea-house woods. Kids dare each other to walk near after sunset — few come close, no one steps inside. Protagonist Shu Itsuki, burdened by guilt from an old friend’s vanishing, can’t let it go. His reason? Nobody else seems to care. ‘If only,’ he repeats, ‘I did more.’
Shu’s stubborn loyalty has bred a tiny, mismatched team. Hisa Endo, who claims ghosts visit her to trade tea blends. Tak Torio, quick with loose jokes and slower at schoolwork. Last, brisk and unreadable Shiori Takamine, who excels at everything — kept at arm’s reach by all. They don’t even like group projects. So, why are they here? Shrug. When there’s trouble, something glues them together.
The Call
Should Shu heed the latest dare? A snapped branch lays beside the fence at dusk. “Hey, Shu, you going? Or just staring at molds again?” Tak grins, bouncing gravel at his shoes. Shu frowns, shakes his head. Inside, though, he’s made up his mind; he means to prove something to the ghosts and, maybe, himself.
Hisa tilts her phone, a weird chill prickling over the group. Her chat fills with forest shadows. “There’s a reading,” she whispers, eyes on unread lines. Shiori looks up from her book, barely flinches. “Don’t get lost. There wasn’t one last time where he…” Unsaid words hover. Why do people disappear? Do you find them by repeating their mistakes?
In the Woods
Nobody brings flashlights. Streetlights slant orange bars along the moss. Laughter from Tak stumbles, fading faster the further they go. The tea-house appears sharper with each step, shaped by warped roots and twined vines. Shu leads; he can’t stop now. You ever gone too far and knew it, but went anyway?
Close up, the doorway isn’t empty. A badly scrawled sigil burns bright on the door with a stink like old mushrooms. Shiori stops, lips white, and shakes her head. “Not without help, now.”
Tak mutters curses under his breath, but he won’t go back. There’s movement behind the window: a pale shape flicks past. Courage thins — you feel that grip behind the lungs when you want to bolt, but don’t. Shu pushes first, gripping an old brass key. Once, it belonged to the friend they lost.
The Battle Wakes
The world blurs. Roots shoot across the floor, tripping Tak, coiling round his ankles. Sweet perfume fills the air, sickly and deep. At the room’s center, the vanished friend appears, but grown wild — hair sprouting thorns, eyes glazed dull violet. Petals trace his cheeks and jaw.
Shu cries, “Mikio! Is that you?”
The spirit smiles slow, unkind. “One of you ran, last time. So who stays this time, I wonder?” 
Tak yells, trying to yank at the vines. Hisa’s voice warps between two registers, thick with something entirely not hers. She recites phrases gleaned from tea-letters; boiled dark green words fight back the perfume, for just a breath of fresh.
Clash of Will
Shiori tears at her wrist, slipping a paper charm between skin and shirtsleeve. Her hand reels back, a bright cut gleaming in the sigil’s starlight. Blood hits the floor, the paths glow, wild will roaring through her. With that act, the world spins wrong.
The friend, part-bloom, part-lost, makes a deal: one of them may walk free, but the rest must root with him, to join the forest’s memory. “Everything lives on. Everything feeds,” he croons. Will they betray to save each other, or themselves?
Cliffhanger
First, Hisa vanishes. Faded, pulled like steam over the tea-house stones. Shiori grips Shu’s hand — harder, panicked, mouth smeared with failed words. The roots draw faster now. Mikio holds up Tak, thorns slipping toward the skin.
“Shu,” Mikio whispers. “I remember what you promised.” Black-and-purple cloud mushrooms fill Shu’s lungs, blocking both air and memory. He looks down. Between his fingers, the friend’s key (his own only proof he ever cared)…is gone.
